A greasy face was all they'd see

While judging all he'd ever be

But…that never brought him down.

Busted knuckles and sunburned skin…

Society calling his very birth a sin…

They just never wanted his kind around.

Setting up his workshop 100 yards wide

And dotting every mall and countryside

…he knew his job and calling well.

He had a heart made of the purest gold

Though the rumors…that’s not was told

Because they considered him a fiend from Hell.

Twenty hour days, seven days a week…

Not much time for life nor sleep…

Ah – but he'd never fuss nor complain.

Working beneath that murderous sun

Working when all others are home and done

And standing in wind, hail, cold and rain.

He had muscles from the grueling work

And sometimes his own soul would hurt

But…that never brought him down.

A simple carnie guy…you'd never look twice

At the attractive man beneath the lights

Of the carnival in such a judgmental town.

©March 26, 2005 Lori S. Maynard